


Accidentally In Love

by 1talian1ce



Series: Accidentally In Love [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, Slow Burn, possible sabriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1talian1ce/pseuds/1talian1ce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Day 1, their relationship - from their first meeting to becoming friends to venturing into something more - can be defined by a series of accidents.</p><p>Although, as Dean would say, "Accidents don't just happen accidentally."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidentally In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything associated with it. I also do not own any of the song titles/lyrics used for the story title/chapter titles; they are the property of their respective artists/owners.
> 
> A note: This is Part II of "Accidentally In Love," but you don't need to read Part I (Almost Heaven) to understand this story; Part I is more of a short foreshadowing of this larger story.
> 
> The story title is based off of the song "Accidentally In Love," by Counting Crows.
> 
> The chapter title is based off of a line in "Collide," by Howie Day.

Dean carelessly tossed a couple of crumpled bills onto the polished countertop – enough to cover his meal and the beer he’d just finished, with a generous tip included. Ellen nodded to him as he stood from his barstool and ambled toward the exit. Only a handful of steps away from the door, Jo called out to him from behind the counter.

“Hey, Dean! We still on for movie night this Friday!?”

He turned on his heel to shoot her a lopsided smile, shouting back to her. “Aren’t we always!?”

She shook her head in fond exasperation, watching as he continued to walk backwards in the general direction of the door. “You blew us off last week!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, smile subsiding into a slight leer as he shrugged his shoulders casually. “Not my fault! I had a hot date!”

Jo sighed, crossing her arms over her chest in an uncanny likeness of her mother, but said nothing more as Dean had finally backed into the door. His hand shot out blindly behind himself to push it open, and it was then that Jo spoke up – someone was trying to enter the bar, but he took no notice of them with his back turned.

“Dean, watch out-!”

But the warning came only a few seconds too late, as the door collided with the unsuspecting person on the other side, knocking them completely off their feet. Dean whipped around at the sound of something heavy landing on the gritty sidewalk outside, appalled to see that he’d literally run into someone and bowled them over. Hastily, he stepped outside and knelt by the fallen individual, gaze raking over them in an attempt to check for injuries.

The stranger was most definitely male, Dean noticed, with a head full of dark, disheveled hair that emphasized the pallor of his skin. With the way that the man’s face was currently angled, his eyes were obscured, though Dean noted a (frankly adorable) nose, and the man’s stubbled chin and cheeks spoke of a rushed morning with too little time to shave. His plush lips were pulled down into a frown, but that took nothing away from his overall handsome features. Dean allowed his gaze to drift lower, to take in the man’s trim, lean form, and what he was wearing. A deep blue suit jacket over white dress shirt, backwards tie, navy slacks to match the jacket, dark shoes, and was that a trench coat? Really? Who wore those nowadays?

A quiet rumble drew his attention back to the other’s face, and he realized that the man had pushed himself up into a sitting position and had been speaking for several moments, observing Dean as he waited for a response. Their eyes finally met and- whoa. This man had to have the bluest eyes that Dean had ever seen before, like molten pools of cerulean, and he felt his breath catch as their gazes locked and held, simply staring at each other in silence.

It took a throat clearing nearby to break them from their apparent trance, and their attention was immediately drawn to the Roadhouse’s door where Jo stood watching them, looking far too entertained at the scene before her.

“You two gonna block our door all day or what?” She didn’t wait for an answer, turning to head back into the bar and letting the door close behind her with a clatter.

Dean cleared his own throat, willing down a blush of embarrassment, and turned back to the stranger, reaching to start gathering up the papers scattered about him that he’d only now noticed. The man must have been carrying them and had dropped them when Dean knocked him over. “Hey, uh, I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

The other man seemed to come back to himself as well and shifted forward onto hands and knees, hastening to help Dean retrieve the papers. “No, it was certainly my fault. I confess that I hadn’t been paying attention. My apologies.”

Man, this guy had a deep voice, like whisky-soaked gravel. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t think it was kind of sexy.

He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts and tried to shuffle the papers into some semblance of a pile. “Nah, man, I was walking backwards when I hit you. There’s no way this’s on you.” He shot a quick glance at the guy when he didn’t immediately respond. “Are you hurt anywhere? Anything broken?”

The man paused as he seemed to take stock of the potential injuries, gaze darting briefly to his hands. “No. I managed to catch myself on my hands and elbows on the way down.” He flashed both hands, palms-up, at Dean, and he observed a light scraping of the skin – thankfully, there didn’t appear to be blood. “Other than that - and perhaps a slight backache later – I believe I am uninjured. You needn’t worry.”

Dean smiled to himself at the formality of this man’s speech, and he fell silent as the two of them continued their task.

Once every paper had been collected, Dean handed his share to the man, who shoved all of them haphazardly into a leather briefcase at his side. After they had all been safely tucked inside, Dean stood and brushed himself off before offering the other his hand. “Here. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

The stranger craned his head back to look up at Dean, those startlingly blue eyes then drifting down to study his outstretched hand. After several moments of consideration, he slid his slim hand into Dean’s – the newly-acquired scrapes pressing coarse against Dean’s callouses - and allowed the other man to pull him to his feet. “Castiel Novak.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow at this, idly noting that ‘Castiel’ was two or three inches shorter than himself. “Castiel, huh? Don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

Castiel’s lips turned up a smidge at the corners, the ghost of a smile. “That would not surprise me terribly. I’ve never met anyone who shared my name.”

Dean nodded sagely. “I’ll bet. Does it mean somethin’?”

The nearly-invisible smile vanished and Castiel shifted a bit uncomfortably at the question, but responded nonetheless – albeit a touch more hesitant than before. “Yes. It is the name of the angel of Thursday. My parents are… very religious.”

Sensing that this was a topic that Castiel would rather not get into right now, Dean cleared his throat again, finally noticing that the other’s smaller hand was still clasped in his own. He quickly jerked his hand back as though burned, bringing it up to his head instead to awkwardly drag it through his dirty-blond hair. Castiel busied himself with dusting his person off, as though they hadn’t just essentially been holding holds. “Sorry about that, man.” His voice held a barely-audible nervous waver, and he hoped that it wasn’t apparent.

Castiel didn’t seem to discern that anything was amiss, however, and straightened up after he’d brushed away what he could, once more catching Dean’s gaze with his own. “It’s fine. But if you don’t mind, I was quite looking forward to a drink. Or perhaps a copious quantity.”

Dean’s arm lowered at that and he took the time to better study Castiel’s face. The pale skin he’d noted earlier had an almost unhealthy sheen to it and faint dark circles resided beneath his eyes, hardly visible in the shadows cast by his unruly locks. In fact, the man appeared as though he’d already been quite disheveled even before Dean had collided with him. “Hey. You okay?”

Castiel’s head tilted to the side in question, and he really shouldn’t find that gesture to be as adorable as he did, especially on a grown man. “What makes you say that?”

Dean shrugged, waving a hand at the man’s overall harried appearance. “You look like you’ve had a long day, and it’s barely even noon. At least let me buy you that drink, okay? To make up for knockin’ you over and everything.”

Castiel briefly fell silent yet again, and Dean was beginning to suspect that the guy was just naturally quiet. “…I suppose that would be acceptable.”

“Alright, then. Let’s go.” He turned and pulled the door of the bar open, holding it for Castiel to go ahead of him. Inside, he gestured toward the bathroom so that Castiel could check on his scrapes and clean up if necessary. He nodded in understanding and Dean watched him stride away, trench coat billowing around him as he went, before turning to find them a suitable spot.

Rather than taking a seat at the main counter, he swaggered toward a booth in a secluded corner. On the way, he caught Jo’s eye behind the bar. She was curiously regarding him, glancing between Dean and the direction that Castiel had gone, but nodded at Dean when he signaled her for two beers. As she moved to tend to another group of patrons first, Dean took a seat on one side of the booth, leaving the other side open for Castiel. 

He nearly jolted when the man appeared a couple of minutes later – almost out of thin air, it seemed – and took the empty seat. “Hey. Everything normal?”

Castiel made a sound that could have been the beginning of a snort, but was too soft for Dean to be entirely sure. “Yes. Nothing permanent.”

Dean hummed in answer, internally glad that he hadn’t seriously injured the man. “The beers should be here in a few.”

Castiel nodded his thanks to Dean, gaze downcast and settled at a random spot on the table. He must have been lost in thought because he jumped an inch or two when Jo appeared soon after and set the pair of bottles on the table with a muted clinking. “Anything else, boys?”

Castiel murmured a quiet ‘No, thank you’ while Dean just shooed her away. She glared fleetingly at him, and Dean knew what that look meant – later on, she’d try to pry all the information she could out of Dean regarding this peculiar situation. Resolving to let her stew for as long as he possibly could, his attention was drawn back to Castiel at the sound of that low, rumbling voice. “I believe my current relationship is no longer current.”

Dean tried to process that for a second, but nope, it wasn’t making much sense to him. “Uh… what?”

Castiel lifted his beer bottle to wrap those lush lips around the rim and took a swig, throat working, and no Dean was NOT letting his mind wander into dangerous territory. 

“You asked me if something was wrong.” He paused for another swallow of his drink and Dean averted his eyes away from that sight. “Around an hour ago, I… I caught my significant other in my bed with someone else. My best friend, actually.”

Dean winced sympathetically. Well. That explained Castiel’s frazzled appearance, he supposed. And it caused his budding interest in this man to be shoved violently into the background – at least, for the time being. The guy probably needed an ear right now way more than he needed a virtual stranger hitting on him. “Wow. Dude, that sucks. Did you tell her to get out? Is that why your relationship is kind of over?”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I did not tell Meg to leave, but I believe she did so anyway. It was Balthazar whom I was most upset with. I may have thrown a rather nice lamp at him and demanded that he vacate my apartment permanently.”

Dean took a drag from his own beer as he considered this. “So, you told your best friend to leave and not your girlfriend? Sounds like you got it a little backwards there, buddy.”

And Castiel was tilting his head in that way again, squinting at Dean as he seemingly tried to figure something out. He seemed to understand the problem after several moments of contemplation, however, and shook his head. “I believe you have misunderstood. Balthazar is not my best friend – Meg is. Balthazar was my romantic partner.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Okay, yeah, he got it now. “Ouch. What a dick.”

Castiel blinked at him, as though he had thought the other might say something disparaging regarding Castiel having been with a man, but shrugged it off when the other didn’t comment further. “That, sadly, was not the worst part.”

Dean faltered, bottle halfway to his mouth, and his green eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You caught your boyfriend banging your best friend – _in your bed_. How does that get worse?”

Castiel cringed at the other man’s wording, a slight flush creeping up his unshaven cheeks. “When he noticed me standing there, staring in horror at the two of them, he simply smirked at me and said, ‘Fancy a ménage à trois, darling?’. That was the point at which I threw the lamp at him.”

Dean choked on his current mouthful of beer, forcing it down and falling into disbelieving laughter. “N-No way! You’ve gotta be k-kidding me!”

Again, Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed as he responded. “I am not… ‘ _kidding you_ ’.” 

The fact that Castiel actually raised his hands to use air-quotes on ‘kidding you’ made Dean laugh all the harder. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was being rude, but he honestly couldn’t control himself. Luckily, that didn’t seem to matter as much when - after a minute or two of helpless laughter – the other man’s face lightened just a tad and he joined in with soft chuckles of his own. 

When Dean finally felt like he had a handle on it, he quieted down and let out a long exhale. “What a douche, cheating on you and then asking if you wanted to join in on a threesome. Just forget him, Cas. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Castiel instantly quieted and Dean wondered what he’d said wrong, if he’d screwed up somehow. “Cas?”

Oh. He bit his lip, mentally wincing at his slip-up. “Ah, sorry. I don’t have to call you that if you don’t want. Just, ‘Castiel’ is kind of a mouthful, you know?”

Castiel studied him for a few long seconds, and Dean was nearly squirming in place by the time a subdued smile broke out across the smaller man’s face, this one far more sincere than any that Dean had seen thus far. “No one has ever called me that before. I like it.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, Dean leant forward across the table to pat Castiel on his trench coat clad shoulder companionably, feeling the tensed muscles relax a little beneath his hand. “Well then, Cas, don’t worry about that asshole. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you forget all about him.”

Lowering his gaze back to the tabletop, that faint flush creeping up his face once more, Castiel allowed his smile to grow the barest amount. “Thank you, Dean. I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know what I said in Almost Heaven, but I figured - why not?
> 
> I don't know whether to thank The-Broken-Castiel for inspiring this, or blame her for it. You guys decide.


End file.
